Winter Wishes at the Farm on MuddypuddleLane (The Farm on Muddypuddle Lane #8)

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

What do you do when you can’t think of anything other than the woman you almost made love to last night?

Mark tried to write, but that didn’t work and he ended up throwing down his pen in disgust. He tried to draw, but the stylus went the same way as the pen. Reading couldn’t keep his mind off Beatrice for more than two sentences at a time, and the programme he tried to watch just became a background buzz to his daydreams of her.

She dominated his thoughts, and he couldn’t think of anything else. His lips yearned to kiss her, his arms longed to hold her, his—

For pity’s sake, if he carried on waxing lyrical like this, he should seriously consider writing romance. And if he carried on being unable to come up with a storyline for the character that Pinkymoon wanted him to write about, then he just might have to!

Packing it in for the day, he shoved his feet into his boots, his arms into his coat, and ventured outside. This was the last-but-one Saturday before Christmas, and Picklewick’s main street was surprisingly busy. Mark assumed that Thornbury would hold greater appeal for shoppers than Picklewick, but apparently not, so he decided to have a proper look around the village. Despite having spent over three weeks here, he hadn’t had a good mooch around, but if he was going to be living here, maybe he should. Besides, he wanted to see if he could find a gift or two for Beatrice and the girls. And not only them: he had his mum and dad to buy for, as well as his brother and family. And so far, he had been too preoccupied to buy anything other than the box of soaps when he was at the farm last Saturday.

Thinking of the farm made him think of Beatrice (to be fair, everything made him think of Beatrice) and he wondered what she was doing now. No doubt she would be busy serving customers, but was she thinking of him at all? In spite of the glaringly obvious physical attraction they had for each other, Mark wasn’t sure how she felt about him. She might be in lust, but was she in love ? Her best friend had told him that Beatrice used to be in love with him back then, and hinted that she still was, but did Lisa actually know?

Mark wished he did, but he wasn’t prepared to risk damaging this fragile connection by asking Beatrice outright.

Picklewick had a decent selection of shops for its size and all the usual suspects: baker, butcher, chemist, greengrocer, florist, pet shop (could he get Sadie a hamster for Christmas? No, bad idea), but nothing caught his eye when it came to gift buying. It didn’t help that he had no idea what to buy girls. His brother had boys, and even then Mark found his nephews difficult enough to find presents for. And as for Beatrice… Perfume seemed too impersonal, jewellery too personal. In fact, should he buy her anything at all? If he bought her a gift and she didn’t get him one, would she be embarrassed? Feel awkward?

Bloody hell! Who knew Christmas could be so complicated? Maybe something small, just to show that he was thinking of her?

Eventually, after a trip to Thornbury, he settled on a safe option for everyone – books. You couldn’t go wrong with books.

Why do radiators tick when they start to warm up, was Beatrice’s first waking thought on Sunday morning, and this was because it was the heating coming on that woke her. The second was of Mark, which wasn’t unusual considering she’d thought about him constantly since she’d discovered he was back.

But when she peeped out through the curtains to see what kind of a Sunday it was, she let out a gasp, and thoughts of Mark were driven from her mind.

Snow!

Oh, my goodness! And it was quite deep, too. Ten centimetres, she estimated, possibly deeper in places. It was only six-thirty a.m., but everywhere was white, the snow intensifying the light from the street lamps, and when she opened the window to feel the spiralling flakes on her warm skin, the world was still and hushed, holding its breath.

A feeling of peace stole over her as she gazed at the magical scene, then excitement started to build. The girls were going to love this! She was going to love this.

Beatrice threw on a dressing gown and hurried downstairs. A substantial breakfast was needed prior to going out to play, as well as warm, waterproof clothes. But first, a cup of coffee, which she would hopefully be able to drink in peace, before the whirlwind that was her youngest daughter got up.

It wasn’t to be. No sooner had Beatrice raised a mug to her lips, than Sadie charged down the stairs, squealing so loudly that Beatrice feared most of Picklewick would hear.

‘Snow, Mummy, snow!’ Sadie thundered into the kitchen, her wellies in her hand. She skidded to a halt, dropped to the floor and began stuffing her left foot into the right Wellington boot.

Beatrice swooped in to intervene, grabbing the wellies. ‘Oh no, you don’t, young lady. Breakfast first. And did you honestly think I’d let you play in the snow in your pyjamas?’

Sadie pouted. ‘I was going to put my coat on.’

Beatrice gave her The Look, and Sadie tried a different tack. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘That’s fine, but you’re not going out to play on an empty stomach, so don’t think you’ll make it outside any sooner by not having breakfast.’

‘Aww.’ The pout turned into a scowl. ‘I’m not hungry because I’ve got tummy ache.’

Beatrice narrowed her eyes. ‘If you’re not feeling well, maybe you should stay indoors until you feel better?’

‘You’re mean.’

Beatrice felt her daughter’s forehead. It was cool to the touch, so she didn’t think she had a temperature. ‘Be honest,’ she warned. ‘Do you feel sick?’

Sadie leapt to her feet. ‘I did, but I don’t now. Can I have a biscuit for breakfast?’

Beatrice laughed. ‘No, you most certainly cannot. I’m making porridge.’

‘Yuck.’

‘You like porridge.’ Beatrice always made it with creamy milk and added a teaspoon of honey.

‘Not today I don’t.’

‘Toast, then?’

Sadie shook her head, but before she could continue to plead for a biscuity breakfast, Taya bounced into the room, as excited as her sister at the sight of snow.

Sadie grumbled, ‘ She said we have to have breakfast before we can go outside.’

Beatrice raised her eyebrows. ‘ She?’ Whilst she could appreciate that Sadie was excited, she didn’t appreciate her daughter’s disrespectful tone, or claiming to feel unwell in order to get her own way, especially when it came to trying to wriggle out of school.

However, there was only a week left, as school would break up for Christmas on Friday. This coming week would be an exciting one, what with the school play and all the other activities that the teachers had planned, so Beatrice would see what Sadie was like in January. But for now, she wanted to enjoy the day, and that meant having fun in the snow.

Beatrice was in the middle of a snowball fight and losing badly (two against one wasn’t fair), when she heard her phone ringing.

Using it as an excuse not to be pummelled any more (Taya had a terrifyingly good aim), Beatrice retreated to the kitchen to see who was calling.

It was Lisa. ‘Beatrice, lovely girl, how good are you with a shovel?’

Beatrice unwound her wet scarf from her neck with a grimace and glanced out of the window. The children were now heaping snow together to make a snowman. ‘You can’t be snowed in. It’s not that deep.’

‘Don’t be silly, of course we aren’t. But it’s set to freeze tonight.’

‘So?’

‘If it does, and the paths aren’t cleared, they’ll be treacherous,’

‘The gritters will be out. It’ll be fine,’ Beatrice said, as she noticed more fat flakes begin to fall.

‘For the roads, yes, but I’m talking about the paths around the school. Do you remember the last time it snowed? The school was closed for two days because the paths were so treacherous. Nikki reckons the same thing could happen tomorrow. But if we clear them, the caretaker can put salt down so they won’t freeze overnight. The school car park also needs to be cleared. Nikki’s fine as she lives in the village and can walk to work, but none of the other teachers do.’ Lisa lowered her voice and Beatrice guessed that one or more of her kids were in earshot. ‘It’s either that, or the kids stay home from school. I know which I’d prefer.’

‘Give me half an hour. Mine are outside.’ She winced as a blob of melting snow trickled down the back of her neck. ‘I’ll get them changed into dry clothes and meet you there.’

‘Bring them round to mine. Robin can look after them.’

‘Will do. See you in a bit.’ Picking up her sodden scarf, Beatrice pulled a face. She’d better take a change of clothes for the girls, because no doubt they’d get wet again.

She was about to ask them to come inside, when she saw she had a message from Mark, and her tummy did a somersault.

Snow! Are you out in it?

Have been. Going 2 school 2 clear paths

Want any help?

Meet you there. 30 mins?

He responded with a happy smiley face and a snowman emoji.

Beatrice stared at her phone for a couple of seconds, her heart thudding, anticipation swooping through her as she remembered him turning up announced but oh-so welcome, late Friday evening. How she’d managed to stop before things went too far, she didn’t know. Thinking about it made her feel weak and breathless. She would have given anything for an hour alone with him…

She hadn’t seen him yesterday, and she felt giddy at the thought of seeing him now. As she got the children ready, she told herself she couldn’t let her feelings show, not in front of so many people. And especially not in front of the other mums, who would be watching any and all interactions she had with him as intently as a flock of beady-eyed hawks.

Although it had been common knowledge at the time that Beatrice and Mark had been dating, only Lisa knew how Beatrice had felt about him, and Beatrice wanted to keep it that way. The problem was, Picklewick was small, and she didn’t doubt that everyone in it knew that she and Mark had been out for a meal together – twice . She suspected that rumours were already rife, but she was determined she wasn’t going to fan the gossipy flames any further today.

Bundling the children out of the door, Beatrice hurried them down the street. Her children loved going to Lisa’s house and she knew they’d have a great time. They wouldn’t miss her in the slightest, not with Lisa’s kids to play with and a continual supply of snow to keep them entertained.

Flakes were still falling when she tried to kiss them goodbye at the front door, but both girls brushed her off, eager to get inside, and Beatrice sighed.

‘Typical,’ she grumbled. ‘They don’t want anything to do with me when there’s something more exciting on offer.’

‘Here.’ Lisa handed her a shovel. ‘Stop moaning. You’d complain if they were hanging onto your apron strings.’

‘So I would,’ she agreed, hoisting the shovel so it sat on her shoulder. ‘Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work we go,’ she warbled.

‘Blimey, you’re in good spirits considering we’re about to get backache and blisters. I’ll be bloody annoyed if no one else turns up,’ Lisa growled. ‘If it’s just me, you, Nikki and the caretaker, we’re not going to get very far.’

Quietly, Beatrice said, ‘And Mark.’

‘What did you say? I didn’t catch that.’

‘And Mark.’

Lisa stopped dead. ‘ Mark is going to be there?’

‘Yes.’

Eyes wide, she muttered, ‘I should have brought another shovel!’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

Lisa brightened. ‘No problem. He can borrow mine. I’ll supervise!’ She resumed walking. ‘I think you’ve got something to tell me.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘Liar. Have you slept with him yet?’

‘No!’

‘You want to, though?’

‘Duh!’

‘Okay, stupid question. Obviously you do. But do you think it’s a good idea?’

‘Probably not.’

‘But you’re going to anyway?’

‘Please don’t judge me,’ Beatrice begged.

‘I’m not. I’m worried about you, that’s all. But as you said, if you don’t, you’ll always be wondering.’

Beatrice’s smile was crooked. ‘I’ve seen him naked before, if you remember. I know what he looks like under his clothes.’

Lisa elbowed her. ‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it.’

It was Beatrice’s turn to stop walking. ‘I’m worried too. I still love him, Lisa. I never stopped.’

‘I get that.’ Lisa put an arm around her, gave her a hug, then propelled her onwards. ‘I must admit, I would do the same in your shoes. Go get ’em, cowgirl!’

‘Fat chance with the kids around.’

Lisa gave her a meaningful look. ‘They’re not around now, are they? They’re at my house.’

‘Are you suggesting that I…we…?’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s eleven o’clock in the morning!’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘I can’t just rock up to him with a shovel in my hand and say take me to bed right now.’

‘I don’t see why not, but if you insist on a build-up, do your bit at the school, then suggest he goes to yours for a spot of lunch. But instead of food, you could-—’

‘I get the idea. There’s no need to spell it out.’

Lisa said, ‘Me and Robin will look after the kids for as long as you need. Take your time.’ She smirked and added, ‘Don’t I have the best ideas?’

‘You do! I could kiss you!’

As they entered the school gate, Lisa whistled. ‘Save your kisses for Mark. He’s going to need them. Look at him go.’

Beatrice looked, and her mouth dropped open.

Mark, snow shovel in hand, was effortlessly clearing the path to the main entrance, his movements controlled and precise. He was coatless, and she could see the flex and bunch of the muscles in his shoulders and arms.

So could everyone else.

A surprising number of parents had turned up, and Beatrice noticed several of the female contingent watching him out of the corners of their eyes.

Mark seemed oblivious, as he concentrated on his path-clearing efforts. Beatrice, in turn, concentrated on him , Lisa’s offer at the forefront of her mind. Trying to take desire out of the equation (which wasn’t easy when the object of that desire was right in front of her), Beatrice attempted to be objective, but all she could think about was the way he made her feel.

And she realised there wasn’t a decision to make – because she’d already made it .

Mark tensed as Beatrice’s fingers stroked his chest, trailing through the fine hairs in slow circles. They were in her bed and she was curled against him, one leg over his thigh, his arm around her, and he was happier than he could ever remember being. For the first time in his life, he felt complete, his body satiated, his mind still, his heart full. So very, very full.

He didn’t want this moment to end, though he knew it must. The afternoon was slipping inexorably into evening, and she would soon need to fetch the children from Lisa’s.

With her hand still on his chest, her fingers continuing to stroke his skin, she said, ‘I forgot to ask how your meeting on Friday went.’

‘Not great,’ he confessed. ‘They want to turn Santa Paws into a series.’

She hesitated, her fingers ceasing their movement. ‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

‘I’ve got to rewrite it, with the focus on one of the other characters. Poor Santa Paws is to take a back seat. They want to make him into a cuddly toy though, so there is that. And my publisher is talking about even more library visits and personal appearances. Apparently “my brand is robust enough to take it”. Anyone would think I’m JK Rowling or David Walliams,’ he huffed.

‘But that’s good, isn’t it?’

‘All I want to do is write my stories. I don’t want to do the bits that go with it. But the market for children’s books is tough, and my agent and publisher don’t want me to lose any momentum.’

‘Is that likely to happen?’

‘Maybe.’ Right now, he didn’t care if it did. All he could think about was Beatrice.

Her phone rang, making him jump, and she sat up. ‘I’d better get going. The girls will wonder where I am.’

Mark’s gaze travelled down her bare back, lingering at her waist, before settling on the curve of her hip. She was beautiful.

He watched her hunt for her phone, her hand delving into the pocket of the jeans lying discarded on the bedroom floor, and when she looked at the screen, her mouth tightened.

‘Hi,’ she said, answering the call.

Mark got dressed and tried not to listen, but it was impossible not to.

‘Fine, thanks… Yeah, a fair bit… No, it’s stopped now… Sorry they’re not here, they’re at Lisa’s. I’ll get them to phone you when they get home.’ She jammed the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she stepped into her jeans.

Mark looked away and pulled his shirt over his head. Was his fleece up here or downstairs? He couldn’t even remember taking it off.

Beatrice said, ‘Thursday at two o’clock… You will? Sadie will be delighted!’ She glanced over at Mark then turned away, lowering her voice. ‘I’ll let you tell her yourself. See you Thursday… Bye, Eric.’ Tossing the phone onto the bed, she said, ‘That was my ex.’

Mark bowed his head. ‘I guessed as much.’

‘He didn’t know whether he’d be able to make it to Sadie’s school play, but he can now.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah, it is.’

He said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Nicki invited me as a guest of honour.’

Beatrice’s smile was wry. ‘Is that the kind of thing you meant when you said your publisher wanted you to do stuff?’

Mark took her in his arms. ‘Yes, but they’ll be cheesed off when they find out I’m not doing this for the publicity.’ He kissed Beatrice on the nose.

‘Why are you going?’

‘To see Sadie in her toadstool costume, of course!’

Beatrice lifted her chin, offering him her mouth and he kissed her with renewed passion. When she ended it, his disappointment was acute.

‘When can I see you next?’ he asked, knowing he sounded needy but he couldn’t help himself.

She lowered her head and murmured, ‘I don’t know. Soon, I hope, but with the kids…’ She trailed off.

‘I understand. They come first.’

Her head came up and she gazed into his face. ‘They do. They have to.’

He kissed her again, this time a tender meeting of the lips. He knew they did, and he was okay with that, that’s how it should be. Mark would fit in with whatever Beatrice wanted, because now that he’d found her again he had no intention of letting her go, and if that meant waiting until she felt able to welcome him into her family, he would wait for as long as it took.

Beatrice studied her youngest child as she shuffled into the living room, and thought she looked simply adorable dressed in her pink sparkly toadstool costume. Beatrice’s mum had done a brilliant job: much better than Beatrice could have done.

But Sadie looked worried. Her little face was flushed and her eyes were huge. ‘I don’t feel well, Mummy.’

Beatrice had a flash of concern. ‘Is it your tummy?’

Sadie nodded.

‘I thought you were looking forward to being the best toadstool in the world?’ Maybe she had stage fright? After Sadie’s initial reluctance on being told that she wouldn’t be playing a fairy, she seemed to have come around to the idea of being a toadstool. But perhaps, with the play only a few hours away, she was becoming anxious?

Beatrice placed a hand on Sadie’s forehead. She did feel rather hot, but then, it was probably quite warm in that costume. She’d only picked at her breakfast though, which hadn’t bothered Beatrice at the time as Sadie and Taya had been in a heated discussion about Rudolf’s nose, and Taya hadn’t eaten much of hers either.

The kids were wound up like spinning tops already, and there were still six days to go until the big day. As far as Beatrice was concerned, Christmas couldn’t come soon enough.

‘Shall we get you out of this costume? You’ll feel cooler with it off,’ she suggested.

Sadie nodded, and Beatrice helped her take it off. ‘Is that better?’

‘Yes,’ Sadie replied but she still sounded rather subdued.

‘You don’t have to take part in the play if you don’t want to,’ Beatrice told her. ‘I’m sure Miss Barnes will understand if you don’t feel up to it. Would you like me to have a word with her?’

‘I want to be in the play.’

‘But if you’re not well…?’

‘Please, Mummy, I want to.’

Beatrice checked her forehead again, but couldn’t tell if Sadie was any cooler. ‘I’m going to take your temperature,’ she announced, getting to her feet.

‘Nooo…’ Sadie was starting to get fractious.

‘If you’ve got a temperature, you can’t go to school.’

‘I haven’t got a tempacher My tempacher is good.’ Her chin wobbled. ‘Please, Mummy, I want to go to school!’

Beatrice thought for a moment, then relented. ‘Okay, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll tell Miss Barnes if you don’t feel well and I’ll come get you.’

‘I will.’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise. Thank you, Mummy. I love you.’

‘I love you too, sweetie. Let’s go brush your teeth and round up your sister.’

Beatrice would take the girls to school and when she handed over the toadstool costume to Sadie’s teacher, she’d have a quick word with her. Beatrice’s gut feeling was that Sadie probably was a bit off-colour today but not unwell enough to be kept off school, and that anxiety at being onstage wasn’t helping. Even though Beatrice was looking forward to seeing Sadie in the school play this afternoon and she would feel immensely proud of her daughter, a part of her would be relieved when this was over.

Mark didn’t relish being the guest of honour at Picklewick Primary’s Christmas play, but he was quite looking forward to seeing Sadie in her costume. After persuading her to take part, he felt he had a vested interest; besides, it was kind of nice to feel part of the community he would soon be living in. He was quite excited to throw himself into village life, even if that involved helping to clear snowy paths.

As he sat next to the school’s Chair of Governors in pride of place in the front row, Mark ran his thumb across the fading callouses on his palm, remembering the feel of the shovel in his hands. It had been a while since he’d done manual labour, but he hadn’t minded it, not if it meant he’d got to spend time with Beatrice. Deciding it would be better not to dwell on what had happened afterwards (as wonderful as it had been, this was neither the time nor the place for thoughts like that) Mark focused his attention on his surroundings.

The hall was filling up with parents, grandparents and younger siblings – those little ones who had yet to start school – and the noise was steadily building. He glanced around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Beatrice, but caught Lisa’s eye instead. Giving him a wide smile, she pointed to her right and mouthed, ‘Over there.’

Nodding to show he understood, Mark looked over his shoulder.

There she was, three rows back and looking so beautiful that she took his breath away. Beatrice was sitting next to her parents, but there was an empty seat beside her and when a man tapped her on the shoulder and sat down in it, Mark guessed that the bloke was Eric.

He stared at him, consumed by curiosity, but looked away when he saw that Beatrice had noticed. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel awkward or to draw attention to her. Or himself, for that matter.

The chatter subsided when a line of children was ushered into the hall accompanied by a teacher, filing in one by one to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the stage. Taya was amongst them, and he smiled. Her lips twitched in response, broadening into a wide beaming smile when she spotted her parents. Ruefully, Mark realised he had a while to go yet before he won Taya over. She was understandably wary of him, and he could fully respect that. He hoped that in time she would come to accept him.

The headteacher called for silence, and when she was happy that the audience was paying attention, a small boy walked self-consciously onto the stage and read out an introduction in a faltering voice.

Mark settled back in his seat to enjoy the show. There was something incredibly sweet about the way the children threw themselves into their parts, despite clearly being nervous. The lead fairy was adorable, and he could see Sadie watching her, a frown on her little face. It seemed to him that she hadn’t fully embraced being a toadstool and was still coveting the fairy role.

The toadstools had just shuffled into position in a semi-circle around the fairies, who were singing a song at full volume and mostly out of tune, when Sadie fell over.

Expecting her to get back on her feet, it took Mark a moment to realise she wasn’t moving.

There was an abrupt silence as the headteacher hurried forward and bent down to check on her, then straightened up, her face ashen.

The next few minutes were a blur, and Mark could only watch helplessly as Beatrice leapt onto the stage to scoop her small daughter into her arms. The terrified expression on her face pierced his heart and he made to go to her, but Lisa grabbed hold of his arm and he realised Eric was there.

He heard someone say, ‘Call an ambulance,’ but Eric shook his head.

Taking Sadie from Beatrice, he said, ‘It’ll be quicker by car.’

Mark watched him carry his limp and lifeless daughter out of the hall, Beatrice by his side, shouting, ‘Mum, look after Taya!’

Then she was gone. And all Mark could do was pray.